


A Battle of Wits

by cr8zymommy



Series: Drabble and Shorts Collection [5]
Category: Criminal Minds, House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-05-23
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:33:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1678286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cr8zymommy/pseuds/cr8zymommy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The CM team meets House</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Battle of Wits

“So you just want me to do a differential diagnosis without even a chance to review the patient?” House demanded, glaring at the group of FBI agents in front of him. His cane moved again, tossing the ball up into the air and catching it on the handle. Aaron was slowly growing more and more annoyed with the doctor as time passed. He gritted his teeth and forced his tone level. “It really isn’t asking that much. We have all her pertinent information here in the file. Her medical history as well as any background questions.”

House scoffed at that and looked around the room at the four agents standing there. “You think that matters to me?” He looked to the back where Spencer stood quietly, staring at the walls and the items that adorned them. “You, gimpy one.” He called out. All eyes drew to Spencer, down to his cane and then back over to House. Each agent showed surprise and a hint of anger. All except for Spencer. He raised an eyebrow and looked at House. “Yes?”

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

A hint of a smile flitted at the kid’s lips. “On occasion.” His simple reply seemed to amuse House. He looked the kid up and down. “I didn’t realize they let children into the FBI now. Or are you just an assistant?”

“He’s Dr. Spencer Reid, actually.” Dave interjected in annoyance. “And he’s a damn good field agent. Now, about the patient…”

“A doctor, huh? Why are you working there and not here?”

“My doctorates are in mathematics, chemistry and engineering. I wasn’t interested in medicine.” The young man explained calmly. He didn’t look anywhere near as perturbed as the rest of them. It intrigued House even more. “When did you graduate high school?” he demanded.

“Age twelve.”

“A child prodigy, then. I bet you’ve just been spoiled your whole little life.”

Spencer shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter. “I’ve had beneficial moments in my life.”

“Beneficial moments. Yeah. As if a child prodigy ever really has it easy. Your childhood probably sucked.” House snorted at that while he put his ball onto his desk. “You talk like a dictionary. Anyone ever tell you that?”

This time it was amusement to grace the young doctor’s face. “Frequently, actually. Though you haven’t heard me ramble on about statistics.”

Pressing his cane into the ground, House rose. “Thank God for small favors. So, shrimp, you’re here to beg me to take this case. Why haven’t you said a word? You always let everyone else take the lead and just stick to the background? Or were you some special weapon they were holding in reserve for me?” his tone suggested how ludicrous he found that idea.

Spencer used his cane to limp in front of Derek, touching his arm as he passed in an appeal for silence. The same as the look he gave to his two senior agents. When he was in front of them he looked at House, cocking his head like he found something interesting to observe. “Why are you acting as if you visit your patients?” he returned.

That had House’s eyebrows going up. “What makes you say I don’t?”

“I’m a profiler. Profiling people is what I do. I observed you and your team interacting while we were waiting for this meeting. Though I couldn’t hear any of you, body language speaks a lot. My guess would be that you never interact with a patient unless you grow extremely frustrated with their idiocy or there’s something massively interesting about them.” He straightened his head and smiled. “Just like you pay no attention to the background information we have anyways. If it’s based off the patient’s own words, you’re not interested. But if it’s a medical fact, you’ll at least look at it before you decide if you’ll dismiss it or not.”

House gave him a grudging nod. He leaned against his desk, almost as if he was settling in, and his eyes lit up a little. “So you profile people, huh? You think you can tell me facts about me and my team? Seems like mumbo jumbo to me. Tell me something about myself that most people wouldn’t know after a five minute meeting in which you _said nothing_.”

“You’re addicted to Vicodin.”

That had all eyes in the room moving to House, who only smiled. “Cuddy could have told you that. She might have felt the need to warn you.”

Spencer nodded. “She might have, if I’d seen her at all. But as you are the only person I have personally spoken with at this hospital, that’s not a viable conclusion.”

“Maybe it’s because one addict recognizes another then.” House smirked, eyeing Spencer’s arms. “How long have you been clean?”

“I recently acquired my one year coin.”

“Congratulations. Did you become addicted because of your intellect, your autism, or your childhood trauma?”

Three gasps sounded. Once again, Spencer calmed them with a look, reassuring them that he had this under control. Then he turned amused eyes back to House. “Actually, none of the above resulted in my addiction, though each one helped fuel it. I was kidnapped and drugged while on a case. It carried over afterwards. Does your addiction help more with the physical pain in your leg, or the mental pain at the people who caused it?”

“A little of both.” Twirling his cane, House leveled the kid with one of his stares. “You’re pretty annoying when you get that high and mighty tone. Does it ever bother your boyfriend?”

“Occasionally.” Spencer shifted his weight, adjusting his leg as it started to ache. “He tends to glass over in his eyes when I go on too long but he lets me ramble often enough. When I go too far or too long or at the wrong moment, he reigns me in. Have you told the man you love that you love him?”

House sneered at him. “As if. Do I look like the happily ever after, white picket fence kind of guy to you?”

“Not particularly. But you do look like someone dedicated, not to his work, but to solving puzzles. I doubt you’d like our case at all.” Spencer shrugged, as if to suggest it didn’t matter. His eyes were calm when he turned to his friends. “He won’t help us, don’t bother. Let’s go, guys. I’m sure someone else can tell us why her tongue is doing what it’s doing.”

The group looked hesitantly at him, but they followed him toward the door. They were almost out when House asked “What’s her tongue doing?”

Spencer just glanced over his shoulder, one hand on the door. “Oh, nothing important. Don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll find someone to look at it”

The look House wore now could only be considered amused and frustrated. He stuck out his hand toward them. “Oh, just give me the damn file already. I just can’t resist fascinating things happening to people’s tongues. A personal weakness of mine, you know.”

Limping forward, Spencer didn’t hand him the file, but tossed it onto his desk. Then he smirked. “Any input you can provide, we’d appreciate.”

“You know, you’re an annoying shit who’s too smart for his britches.” House told him bluntly. A small half grin quirked his lips. “Come back and see me before you leave.”

“You’re a narcissistic ass who can’t stand being wrong and lives for the next puzzle.” Countered Spencer. Then he grinned. “I think I might.”

“I’ll hone my wit for the encounter.”


End file.
